


A Memory of Sunlight, a Memory of Singing

by Moonsault, orphan_account



Series: Three Tres Bien Amigos [7]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Kayfabe Compliant, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Five years after Final Battle 2009, a day in the lives of Kevin, Sami, and Generico.





	

**Five years after Final Battle.**

Kevin woke up as Sami slipped back into bed in the gray light just before dawn, his prayers complete. Generico rolled over and wrapped himself around Sami without waking up.

“Anyone else up?” Kevin mumbled, reaching out to comb fingers through Sami’s rumpled hair.

Sami yawned. “Nicolás and Mariana are reading, and Daniel’s weeding the vegetables. Everyone else is still asleep.” Sami was asleep again too, almost before the sentence was done.

Kevin propped himself up on one elbow to look at the two of them, curled up around each other like a Moebius strip. A Moebius strip looked like it had two sides but it only had one, right? Kevin had some fuzzy memory of that from school. He listened to the roosters outside, to the chirping of the sparrows, and he simply gazed at his friends sleeping. Eventually the sun peeked over the horizon and light flooded the room, touching their faces, masked and unmasked. Far off across the canyon, the little chapel’s morning bell started to ring.

Sami had his morning prayers, and Kevin had his own, in a way.

As the last bell sounded, Kevin rolled over and got out of bed, stretching and yawning. By the time he padded out into the common room, Nicolás and Mariana had been joined on the couch by Martin. “Someone come to the coop with me,” Kevin said.

Mariana rolled her eyes, but she put down the book and came along.

By the time they finished gathering the eggs and milking the cow, it was already hot. Kevin wiped the sweat off his brow and grumbled under his breath, a constant flow of complaints: it was too hot all the time, he hated getting up before dawn just to feed a bunch of ungrateful brats, it was dusty and windy and he didn’t like way the cow smelled and the cellular wasn’t good, there wasn’t a decent pizza place anywhere nearby, and he was tempted to just ditch it all and go back to Montreal. Mariana listened to him patiently, then kissed his forehead and scampered back toward the main building with the basket of eggs.

Kevin sat down on a tree stump and mopped his face, watching the sun rise over Los Angelitos de El Generico and feeling ridiculously, buoyantly happy.

After Final Battle, after Ring of Honor, they’d traveled the world for a while. Japan, Europe, South America: for a couple of years they’d lived out of suitcases, everything a dizzying whirl of airplanes and scheduling and self-promotion. They’d gotten the hang of selling t-shirts. They’d become mainstays in PWG: first Kevin and Generico had won the tag team championships, and then--Kevin felt a smile tug at his mouth, remembering it--Sami had won the World Championship. Kevin and Generico had hoisted him on their shoulders and everyone had laughed and everyone had cried.

And then, when they had made enough money, they had come back and founded the orphanage.

Breakfast was almost ready by the time Kevin got back. Generico was doing something complex and fairly dangerous with a skillet, cutting board, and two large butcher’s knives; Sami had herded the kids into a distant corner for safety and was going over their homework. 

_“Tío_ Kevin!” called Pablo as he came in. “How do you say ‘chicken’ in Arabic?”

“Generico?” Kevin suggested, leading to a chorus of affectionate catcalls. “I dunno, you know that’s not my thing, kiddo. Call me when you’re on French lesson.” All of their kids were going to be fluent in English, French, Arabic and Spanish by the time they left--Sami was particularly proud of that. Generico was particularly proud of their organic gardens and free-range chickens.

Hanging on the wall was what Kevin was particularly proud of: three heavy matching belts of red leather, each of them stamped with a luchador’s mask in gleaming metal.

When Dario Cueto had called them about working for Lucha Underground, Kevin had been a little hesitant. He knew bad news when he saw it, after all, even if Sami and Generico didn’t, and Dario had _bad news_ written all over him. But Boyle Heights was an easy day trip, and the money was _extremely_ good for very little time investment. 

And that’s how Sami, Generico, and Kevin became the Lucha Underground Trios champions.

The other luchadors had looked askance at Generico at first. But eventually he had won them over when it became clear that he didn’t seem to speak _any_ language fluently. In fact, Sexy Star had taken him under her wing and was tutoring him. She claimed his Spanish had improved, but since Kevin didn’t understand any of it, he didn’t know.

He did understand the joy in Generico’s eyes as they held their titles up together. He understood the peace in Sami’s face as he slept. He understood the happiness in his own heart every single morning when the sun filled their room.

He didn’t quite understand what he had done to deserve any of this, how they had managed to find their way here, but here they were.

* * *

“Let’s take a walk,” Sami said as they finished washing the dishes from breakfast, and so the Lucha Underground Trios champs set off into the hills, climbing upward in the hot morning sun. As they got higher, there was a breeze that cooled the sweat from Kevin’s forehead, so he didn’t bitch and moan _quite_ as much as he wanted to. There were bright yellow flowers starting to peek into bloom on the scrubby sagebrush that clung to the rocks, and the air was heavy with the sharp turpentine scent of their crushed leaves as the three of them passed.

They reached the lookout rock and dropped down on its broad flat surface, looking down. The orphanage was just below them, nestled in a grove of eucalyptus. Beyond stretched the canyon, and beyond that… the world. All of the world.

Generico was lying flat on the rock, looking up at the sky and humming happily to himself. High above them, an eagle soared in lazy circles. Sami took a deep breath, let it out. He was smiling.

Kevin broke off a bit of brush and twirled it between his fingers, enjoying the pungent scent of it. “Got an email from Neville,” he said. “Said he was hearing talk about a tryout for all three of us.”

Sami chuckled. “Again? Well.” They’d heard rumors for years, but none of them had been particularly bothered when nothing had come of it. “Same as before, right? When they decide to make a trios title, they’re free to give us a call.” He glanced over at Kevin, a sudden shadow of worry glancing across his face. “I mean… right?”

Kevin looked out across the canyon, at the little world they’d made for themselves. “It’d be nice someday, I suppose,” he said. “But here’s the thing.” He took a breath. Some things were still a little hard to say out loud, even after all these years. But it was important he say them, he knew that. So: “We love each other, and that’s all that matters, right? Enjoy this moment and let the future take care of itself.”

He hadn't thought he'd said anything _that_ earth-shattering, but El Generico sat up with a gasp of pure shock. He stared at Kevin. “This moment,” he said.

“Right,” said Kevin. “We should enjoy it.”

Generico’s eyes were wide behind the mask. “Memory,” he said. “ _Not_ memory. Now.” He started to laugh, a long sweet bubble of joy that made Kevin laugh too, he didn’t even know why. Sami joined in as if he couldn’t help himself--who could keep from laughing when Generico was laughing?--and Generico grabbed his head and kissed him on the forehead, then did the same to Kevin. 

“It’s now. It’s always now,” Generico said, and then he jumped to his feet with a whoop of delight.

“Kevin, Sami!” he cried. “I hear singing, I hear so much singing!”

He threw out his arms toward the horizon, toward the wide world beyond it.

“They sing for us!”


End file.
